


God Called in Sick Today

by Winged_Fool



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Dark, Dubious Morality, Implied Stalking, M/M, Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, References to gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2020-10-10 06:15:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20523299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winged_Fool/pseuds/Winged_Fool
Summary: Michael is a vigilante that takes the law into his own hands. Alex is the hapless reporter he falls in love with. Serial Killer AU





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wandering_in_space](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wandering_in_space/gifts).

> Big thanks as always to [ wandering-in-space](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wandering_in_space/pseuds/Wandering_in_space) for encouraging me to finish this fic and double-checking my ABQ facts

Albuquerque is New Mexico’s largest city, but it’s still small enough that when a string of women go missing over a couple of weeks, people take notice. There are no leads and women are on edge, people avoid Central and the so-called War Zone, but they still go missing. Downtown Albuquerque, Uptown, the Foothills, the Heights, there isn’t a centralized location.

Then the bodies are found and Albuquerque is even more shaken. Bodies mutilated and tortured and it’s the only thing being talked about. And suddenly, it stops. No more missing women and no more tortured corpses. A week passes and the people of Albuquerque start to cautiously hope, another week and they start going out again. The third week passes and the early birds are commuting into work when a corpse is found hanging from one of the billboards near the Big I. The billboard has been spray painted over, reading “Serial killing rapists not welcome.”

When the police take the body down, they find he’s been drained of all his blood, his penis has been cut off and missing, and has wounds that suggest the person was violently tortured before dying. His DNA matches against the traces found on the women. The city is shaken, the killer was found and killed, but who had left the body and the message?

The incident fades away until the next tragedy comes along. A racist blows into town and tries to shoot up the parking lot of a UNM football game. He’s quickly apprehended, minor injuries left behind in his wake, and taken to be held at one of the police stations. The next morning, he’s missing from custody and the city starts to sweat, fearful he’ll turn up again at any one of the busy locations in the city. The day is spent in anxiety and they go to sleep with him still missing.

The next morning, he’s found. His body is tied up against a different billboard near the Big I. The message around his lifeless body reads “Guns don’t kill people, I do.” and when the police take his body down, it’s bullet-ridden.

The pattern continues. Criminals are put on trial by this anonymous vigilante. A crooked cop running a prostitution ring is strung up at a station, naked, his hands missing. A judge who had been taking bribes is found in the courthouse, mouth stuffed with dollar bills. Meth traffickers pop up all around the city, nooses around their necks, bullets through their heads, executioner style. Each corpse is found with a chilling message about the crime. The city also receives the unspoken message: someone is watching over ABQ and if you step out of line, they’re going to find you.

Alex is a burgeoning reporter that makes his big break in the wake of the extrajudicial killings. He dubs the phantom “El Diablo” and focuses on the pros and cons of having a vigilante in Albuquerque.

_ Pros: _ APD has been severely understaffed for years and heinous crimes are constantly turning cold so at least there is some justice. The vigilante appears to be an ally of Albuquerque and is only targeting criminals. People seem to be sleeping better knowing El Diablo is keeping an eye out for them.

_ Cons _: El Diablo is still a serial killer and is playing judge, jury, and executioner. The killings are focused on terrible crimes, but it’s always possible he could start twisting vengeance as justice. The power could go to his head and start doling out justice where he saw fit.

Alex’s columns are controversial as the city’s official stance on El Diablo is he’s an unhinged individual performing extrajudicial killings and he must be apprehended as swiftly as possible. One city council member publicly denounces Alex and says he’s contributing to the problem. Alex simply shrugs it off and continues writing his columns.

Alex doesn’t fear El Diabo, he’s a good citizen and he stays in his lane. He knows he’s not the kind of person that El Diablo would have any interest in, but that changes one chilly November morning. He’s leaving his apartment and finds a package waiting for him on the doorstep with a note. He rips open the note and sees chillingly familiar handwriting.

_ Darlin’-- _

_ Your columns make me so happy. I feel like you’re the only one that can see the true me. Mr. Gutierrez was taking bribes from anti-immigration activists to pass harsher restrictions on undocumented immigrants, despite having come here illegally himself. A hypocrite and a coward, he only said those things about you because he feared me. I look forward to reading your next column. _

_ Yours, _

_ El Diablo _

Alex’s hands are shaking by the time he gets to the end of the note. He nervously opens the package to find a bloody severed thumb with a ring on it. He nearly drops the package and quickly looks around to see if anyone is lurking around, but it’s early and both the parking lot and apartment complex are deserted.

He stuffs the paper into his pocket and waffles on what to do with the package. If he throws it away, what if they trace it to him? And if he takes it to APD they might come to the same conclusion. So he throws it into the trunk of his car and speeds off to work. He arrives to the buzz that Councilman Gutierrez is missing and Alex’s heart sinks.

He moves as if underwater and gets to his desk and starts typing out a rebuke of El Diablo for targeting the city’s public servants. By the afternoon, Gutierrez’s body has been recovered, found on the banks of the Rio Grande. The note clipped to his shirt announces his crimes, similar to what was in the note Alex received that morning. His hands resume shaking as he finishes his column. He’s just sent it off to his editor when the news of Gutierrez’s missing thumb reaches him. El Diablo’s first trophy, they murmur, and Alex can’t breathe.

He keeps his head down and starts to write increasingly more reproachful columns about El Diablo, but body parts keep showing up on Alex’s doorstep anyway. Small limbs at first, fingers, toes, an ear, then organs also make appearances, and Alex starts every morning throwing up. Each body part is accompanied by a “love” letter where El Diablo profuses that even though Alex is starting to write more negative coverage on him, he still appreciates that he’s remained Alex’s focus. Alex calls him heartless publicly in one column and after that, hearts begin showing up on his door.

Alex knows he should report these “gifts” but he can’t. He knows the police would start monitoring his home to catch El Diablo and despite his harsh public words, privately Alex agees with his methods and believes he’s doing Albuquerque a service. So instead, body parts and organs begin piling up in Alex’s freezer.

It becomes a ritual. Alex wakes up, goes to the door to find the gift El Diablo has left him, he stuffs the body parts in his freezer, and he reverently reads the words that are left for him. It continues this way for months, and by the time the spring winds start up, Alex doesn’t remember what it was like before they started appearing. But as suddenly as they began, they stop. Alex knows logically he should be relieved that they have stopped, but he also feels a pang of disappointment.

A week passes and there is still nothing, but a body is found at the end of the week and it makes Alex feel almost anxious. He knows what it feels like to be abandoned and as ridiculous as it is, it almost feels like El Diablo is just another in a long list of people who leave Alex behind. So, Alex goes into work and writes another scathing article on El Diablo, but he concludes it by acknowledging that crime in Albuquerque has significantly dropped, APD response times have increased, and non-violent crime has also decreased. It’s a slightly different tone than Alex had been writing in the past few months, but he thinks it’s perhaps one of his better pieces.

The sun has set by the time Alex leaves work, his article published online an hour before, and he’s one of the last ones to leave. He’s parked far from the building of the _ Albuquerque Journal _so he has a bit of a walk to get to his car. He hears footsteps behind him and he reaches into his pocket to get a hand on the bottle of mace he always carries with him.

“Darlin’,” he hears someone drawl behind him and every hair on the back of his neck stand up as his heart skips a beat. There’s only one person who’s ever called Alex that. He braces himself then turns to face El Diablo. He’s painfully _normal _looking: black cowboy hat resting atop his head, honey curls below, his hands stuffed into a pair of faded blue jeans held up by an obscene belt buckle, a black tee-shirt, and a pair of cowboy boots to complete the ensemble. “Have you missed me?” he asks, taking a step closer to Alex.

Alex takes one back in response and shakes his head, voice catching in his throat.

“I liked your piece tonight, so harsh.” He chuckles darkly. “But I’m glad you’re able to see that it’s working.” He takes another step closer to Alex but stops when Alex pulls the mace out of his pocket and aims it defensively. “I’m not going to hurt you, darlin’.”

Alex’s heart is beating wildly, but he swallows down his fear, “What do you want?”

“I just wanted to meet you. Make sure you make it home safe,” he says lazily, hands still in his pocket, posture slumped over to one side.

“No, why are you terrorizing the city?” Alex challenges.

“Tsk, now I know you don’t believe that, Alex. I’ve read your articles. You might be writing harsher words against me, but I can see through it. You haven’t reported all the gifts I’ve left you. You think the scum of the city deserves it. I know you,” he resumes taking slow, deliberate steps toward Alex who is frozen in place.

“You don’t know anything about me,” Alex objects and cowers slightly when he finally reached Alex.

He smirks and reaches out and places a hand on Alex’s cheek, thumb stroking his cheekbone, holding him in place. “Alex Manes, reporter at the _ Albuquerque Journal _, volunteers every other weekend at the VA Hospital, fosters dogs from the Humane Society until they can find their forever home. Youngest of four, New Mexico native. Joined the Air Force after high school, then was honorably discharged after losing part of your right leg. Became a journalist after returning to the States.” he recites and Alex’s breath hitches. “Did I miss anything?” A tear escapes from Alex’s eye and Michael wipes it away with his thumb. “Don’t cry, Alex. I promise I won’t ever hurt you.”

Alex shudders, “Then, please, let me go home.”

“Of course I’ll let you go home,” he says and takes a step away from Alex.

“Even though I’ve seen your face?” Alex doesn’t know why he’s challenging him.

“I trust you," he replies. “And I’ll even give you something else. My real name. Michael. Though I like your moniker better,” he grins, all teeth.

“Michael.” Alex tests the name out. “What happens now?”

“I walk you to your car and make sure you make it home safe. It’s dangerous at this time of night, you know.” Michael laughs like it’s some joke. He offers his arm out to Alex who eyes it suspiciously but reluctantly loops his arm with Michael’s when it becomes clear Michael isn't going to let it go. 

The walk in silence and when they reach Alex’s car, Michael releases him. Before Alex can shut the door, Michael puts his arm at the top of the door and leans into the car and Alex’s space. “Albuquerque’s film industry is growing, but some scum has slipped in. Might be a lead worth investigating,” he smiles, then steps back and closes the door for Alex.

Alex tries not to peel out of the parking lot, but it’s not a sure thing. He looks in the rearview mirror and sees Michael still standing there watching him. And as if sensing Alex was looking, he lifts a hand to wave. He screeches away and when he gets home, he types a frantic email to his editor requesting to be taken off El Diablo stories. His editor responds almost instantly with a flat out no because his columns are so popular. Alex lays in bed staring at his ceiling, emotions swirling, before succumbing to sleep.

* * *

The next morning, as he’s getting ready for work, Alex thinks of Michael’s parting words. He anxiously chews on his lip on his commute, listening to the local news. When he gets to the _ Journal_, he hasn’t heard anything about any new Diablo murders. He sits at his desk, blankly staring at his computer screen before he decides to throw caution to the wind. He tells his editor that he’s going to investigate a tip and heads out on I-25 toward the studio warehouses.

He parks at one of the studio’s parking lots and starts making his way around the buildings. There isn’t any filming going on at the moment so most of the studios are deserted. He reaches an older warehouse and notices one of its doors is slightly ajar. He enters it cautiously and finds three men hanging from the rafters, their eyeballs missing, and a sign hangs over them “Harvey Weinstein’s kind not welcome.”

Alex snaps a picture of it and tweets it out “Developing: ABQ studio execs latest El Diablo victims.” Then he calls the police and waits. Something uneasy shifts in him as he thinks Michael did this after he saw him yesterday. He’s questioned endlessly by the police, demanding to know how he knew about this and he bends the truth by saying it was an anonymous tip. They finally let him go and he speeds back to the _ Journal _to expand on the story. 

It’s the first story Alex breaks and he tries not to think about how he got here. His editor and coworkers take him out to Bosque to celebrate and his editor smugly claims some credit for the story for not allowing Alex to be taken off El Diablo stories. He’s stumbling by the time he leaves the brewery and one of his coworkers drives him home. He’s dropped off with another congratulations and he clumsily enters his apartment.

Alex stops short and instantly feels himself sober up when he spots a bouquet of flowers in a vase sitting innocently on his dining table. He cautiously approaches the table and finds a note tacked to the bouquet that simply reads _ “Congratulations on breaking the story. -M” _

He knows he should be afraid, throw out the flowers, report Michael to the authorities, but he doesn’t do any of it. He plucks the note out of the flowers and pins it onto his fridge and goes to bed with warmth in his heart and a smile on his face.

* * *

When the weekend rolls around, Alex goes through his weekly Saturday ritual of staying in bed a little too long then dragging himself out to spend the morning at Satellite Coffee with a book before he heads out to the VA hospital. He’s deeply engrossed in his book when someone joins him at this table. “Mornin’ darlin’,” comes a familiar drawl.

Startled, Alex looks up into Michael’s dark eyes. He’s stretching in the seat, making himself comfortable, pulls his black hat off and sets it aside on the table. Alex feels his heart stutter and his stomach flip, neither having to do with fear. “Uh, hi.” Alex greets tentatively.

“Congratulations on the article. Very well written.” Michael praises like they’re old friends.

_ Thanks for the tip_, Alex almost says but it feels absurd. _ Thanks for telling me who you were planning to kill before you did it _is more accurate Alex thinks hysterically. “Thank you for the flowers.” Alex settles on instead and Michael preens.

He leans back in his chair and studies Alex’s face. “Tell me about you.”

“You seemed to have known everything the other night.” Alex teases lightly, marveling at how surreal this whole thing was.

“I want to hear it from you,” Michael responds seriously.

Alex nods thoughtfully and fills in the details of the things Michael already knew. He responds in kind with his own story: a mechanic that lives and works in the International District off Central. He saw most of the city’s crime there, meth heads had robbed and nearly beaten his employer to death, the kindest person Michael knew. One of his friends had been kidnapped, raped, and murdered by that first serial killer. It all clicked together to Alex, surrounded by violence and seeing the people he loved harmed, he could see someone just snapping.

If it weren’t for the subtext of talking about Michael murdering people, it might feel like a date.

Alex checks the time and smiles apologetically at Michael, “I have to head out now.”

Michael reaches out and takes one of Alex’s hands into his and strokes it, “Of course, darlin’.”

Something emboldens Alex and he says, “Same time and place next week?”

Michael’s face positively _lights_ _up_ and a smile curves his lips, “I’ll be here, darlin’,” and he turns Alex’s hand over and presses a kiss to the palm.

And that’s how it starts. 

During the week, Alex becomes El Diablo’s spokesperson. Alex is promoted after his first break, taking on the lead for El Diablo stories. He still writes his op-eds on the killings, but he’s also lead investigative reporter and religiously breaks the stories on El Diablo’s victims, writing their profiles that eventually led to their demise. Michael still leaves him gifts and tips on his doorstep and Alex’s career flourishes. 

On the weekends, he spends time with Michael and gets to know him intimately, as though they’ve been friends for a lifetime. It’s such a strange dichotomy, knowing Michael is a ruthless killer but still so endearingly sweet. Alex gets it though, he loves Albuquerque, he wants its people to be safe here and if Michael picks up the slack where APD drops it, then he’s not going to complain.

One Saturday Alex isn’t volunteering at the hospital, they spend the whole day engrossed in conversation, ending up staying at Satellite until it closes. It’s dark when they exit the coffeeshop and Michael crowds into Alex’s space, pressing him against his car.

“Do you want to know who I killed first?” Michael coaxes, stroking Alex’s face.

“Who?” Alex breathes.

“My foster parents. Mean motherfuckers. They were always high on meth, liked those government checks comin’ in for fostering to spend on their drugs. There were a couple of us and they liked to take their anger out on us. They were supposed to care for us, but they were evil. They deserved to be punished.” Michael says casually, holding Alex in place still.

Alex shudders and his eyes fall shut. He feels Michael lean forward and press his lips against Alex’s, a barely there touch. “Someone hurt you, too?” he asks against Alex’s lips. He nods jerkily. “Who?” Michael demands, but Alex shakes his head. “Who, darlin’?”

“I can’t.” Alex chokes out and tears start to escape from his still closed eyes.

“Don’t cry, Alex.” Michael pleads while wiping away the tears. “I’ll find them. I’ll find them for you.” Alex finally opens his eyes and shudders again when he looks into Michael’s dark eyes. “I’ll keep you safe, darlin’,” Michael promises.

* * *

A day passes, then another, a third, then finally on the fourth day, Alex receives a call while he’s getting ready to head into work. “Manes,” his editor greets, “Why don’t you take the rest of the week off?”

“What’s going on?” Alex demands.

There’s a long pause on the other end before the response comes, “El Diablo got your father.”

Alex sucks in a breath that he hopes sounds like shock and not the barely concealed joy he feels. “Wh-what?”

“We always knew it would be a risk having you prominently cover El Diablo, but I never thought it would end like this,” his editor continues sympathetically. “They found his body on base.”

“O-Okay,” he says.

“Are you going to be okay? Do you have someone you can call?” His editor presses.

And wasn’t that just the kicker, the only person Alex wants to call is the one who did this. “Yeah, I’ll be fine, thank you for letting me know,” he clicks to end the call and hurries to his front porch and finds an envelope taped to the door.

_ I’ll keep you safe. No matter from who. _

Alex’s heart flutters and he returns inside to turn on the news and see what gift Michael left him. Chief Master Sergeant Manes had been found on Kirtland, just as his editor had said, and his chest had been sliced open and the organs methodically removed. A thick piece of paper had been sewn in the chest cavity with the list of his misdeeds:

_ J Manes hid behind his military service to commit atrocities in our city. He physically and emotionally abused his four sons and wife. In his earlier years when he was serving abroad, he and others in his unit tortured young Iraqis under the pretense of gathering information during Desert Storm. A racist that regularly called ICE on innocent families living in our city. The city is safer without him. _

_ El Diablo _

It’s the first time Michael has signed any of the letters left on his victims. He wanted to make sure everyone knew who brought Alex’s father to justice. He wanted _ Alex _to know he knew what Jesse had done to his son.

That night, the devil comes knocking on Alex’s door, black Stetson in one hand, metaphorical blood on his hands, and Alex lets him in without a word. Before he can ask if Alex liked his gift, he’s crowding Michael against the front door, leaving hot kisses on his face and neck. Michael buries his fingers into Alex’s hair and urges his kisses on. He pulls away and really takes in Michael’s presence. 

It’s like seeing him with new eyes. _El Diablo?_ _No, _Alex thinks wistfully, _mi salvador_. Michael smiles and rubs his thumb against Alex’s cheek, a long familiar gesture. Alex kisses Michael long and deep, trying to pour all his gratitude into it. When they part, he demands Michael help him to his knees, mindful of the prosthetic, and earnestly starts unbuckling Michael’s pants. 

“Are you not afraid?” Michael teases, running his fingers through Alex’s hair. “You once wrote that the power could go to my head and I would start doling out justice where I saw fit.”

Alex breathes Michael in, then looks up at him. “We call you El Diablo, but you killed the only one that mattered. I’m not afraid of anything now. You’ll keep me safe.”

Michael’s eyes soften and he drags his hand from Alex’s hair to his cheek, “Always.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is 100% [ ViolettaValery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViolettaValery/pseuds/ViolettaValery)'s fault. She gave me so many good ideas to work with!

After Jesse is murdered, Alex takes a leave of absence from the _Albuquerque Journal_. He attends the funeral stony-faced wedged between his brothers who also don’t mourn the loss. They go out to Bosque following the burial, the four of them, where Alex had gone to celebrate breaking his first El Diablo story all those months ago.

His eldest brother, Harlan, buys the first round. He raises his glass with a sardonic smile and toasts, “The old bastard is dead,” and they all clink their glasses together. Alex’s relationship with his brothers has always been complicated. They used to be close before their mom left, but they all did what they had to to avoid Jesse’s abuse, and as the youngest, that often left Alex as the biggest target.

“Maybe we should be toasting to El Diablo,” Flint jokes. Alex’s stomach flips at the comment and tries not to give himself away.

Hunter bumps Alex’s shoulder with his own, “When you get back to the _Journal_, why don’t you write him a thank you letter from us?”

Alex wants to brag, tell them it’s because of _him_ that Jesse is gone because he’s loved by the devil himself and nothing will ever hurt him again. Instead, he merely shrugs and mumbles into his drink, “We shouldn’t be encouraging this kind of behavior.”

“Oh, lighten up, Alex,” Flint rolls his eyes.

They leave the bar a few hours later, each exchanging awkward and stilted goodbyes, all knowing they probably won’t see each other again for a long time. Alex feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders when he drives away, a difficult chapter in his life finally at an end.

He arrives back to Michael sprawled out on his couch and his heart flutters. “Welcome home,” he greets from his spot. Alex quickly puts aside his things, shucks off his shoes, and joins Michael on the couch, laying atop of him and nestling his head on Michael’s chest. Michael immediately brings a hand to run through Alex’s hair, soothing him. “How was it?”

“Perfect,” Alex responds quietly, eyes closed. “Seeing his coffin was everything I hoped it would be.”

He hums and continues petting Alex’s hair, “What about seeing your brothers?”

Alex laughs slightly, “They send their regards to your work.”

Michael chuckles, his chest rumbling. “That’s nice, but I didn’t do it for them.”

Alex lifts his head to meet Michae’s fond gaze and then surges up to lay hot kisses all over his face. “I know,” Alex breaths onto Michael’s lips, “You did it for me. You did it all for me.”

“For you, for you,” Michael agrees helplessly while Alex snakes his hand between them, rubbing Michael through his pants.

“You’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you Michael?” he asks, unbuttoning Michael’s jeans.

“Anything,” he agrees, then cries out when Alex gets a hand around him. “Everything.”

Alex smiles, pleased with the answer, and rewards him by slowly, teasingly getting him off.

They’re still laying wrapped up in each other after they’ve been sated. Alex’s head back on Michael’s chest. Michael shifts a bit under Alex before saying, “I found all the gifts I’ve given you.”

“Oh?” Alex asks, picking up his head to rest his chin on Michael’s chest and meet his gaze.

“Perhaps we need to find a better place for them. Might look a little suspicious to have a freezer full of organs,” he replies nonchalantly.

“They were gifts from you,” he says stubbornly. “What else am I going to do with them?”

“Oh, Alex,” Michael sighs contentedly and brushes at Alex’s fringe. “You don’t think those will be the last gifts I ever give you, do you?”

“I guess not,” Alex smiles shyly, “Well then, what do you think we should do with them?”

“Let’s go for a drive,” Michael suggests. “Bury them out in the desert.”

Alex chews on his bottom lip, considering it. He hates the idea of being parted from their first connection, but he always knew it would be a risk to keep them in his apartment. “I’m not volunteering at the hospital this weekend, let’s go then,” he finally concedes.

Michael comes back to the apartment, bright and early on Saturday. He brings in a cooler and they pack it with the gifts and ice, Michael telling Alex about each organ and how he took it from his victim. Once the task is completed, they pack into Michael’s truck and put the cooler on the bench between them. He drives them out of Albuquerque, hands linked atop the cooler, and drives for over an hour. They’re well in the middle of nowhere when Michael exits the freeway and start approaching some magnificent rocks.

“Where are we?” Alex asks when they stop.

“The Valley of Dreams,” Michael responds seriously, exiting the truck. “There’s a rock formation out here called the Alien Throne.”

Alex pulls the cooler out while Michael goes to the bed of the truck and takes out a shovel. “Wouldn’t it be cool to bring them an offering?” Michael asks.

He laughs, “You really love your theatrics. Alright, let’s go regift these to the aliens.”

Michael throws his head back and laughs, leading the way to the throne.

* * *

When Alex returns to the Journal, he ignores everyone’s pitying looks. His editor comes by to tell him he doesn’t have to stay on El Diablo stories anymore if he doesn’t want to, but Alex rebuffs him. “I’m not afraid of him,” Alex tells him and it’s truer than his editor will ever know.

Alex sits at his desk thinking of the best way to address Jesse’s death and he remembers the first time he met Michael; how pleased he’d been with the harsh words he’d written about him. With that in mind, Alex begins to write another ruthless rebuke of El Diablo. He chooses not to address the abuse claims he’d made, instead focusing on the brutal nature of the murder, how Jesse had committed old crimes, unlike previous victims.

“_Many of us have tolerated El Diablo in our midst because his vigilante justice has kept us safe when APD could not. If he starts targeting anyone who has done bad things in the past, then any one of us could be next._” Alex finishes the op-ed with the biggest lie he’s ever put to print, “_Jesse Manes hadn’t been the perfect father, but that doesn’t mean he deserved to die the way he did_.”

It’s not the best thing he’s ever written, but it’ll be good enough to throw suspicion off his back and questions on why he wants to stay on El Diablo stories. His editor is pleased with it and his coworkers stop giving him sad looks. Alex feels like he can breathe better when he leaves the _Journal_ and anxiously waits at home for Michael’s response.

Michael comes knocking on his apartment door late in the evening and before Alex can greet him, Michael is kissing him, hard and possessive. Alex tugs him into the apartment and shuts the door behind them. “I read your article,” Michael finally says after he’s literally kissed Alex’s breath away.

“Mmm, impressed?” Alex asks, hooking his arms behind Michael’s neck.

Michael leans forward, nips at Alex’s ear before breathing hotly, “I was so hard the entire time I was reading it.” He pulls away to gauge Alex’s reaction.

Not one to back down from a challenge, he merely smiles and says, “Me too while I wrote it.”

Michael buries his head in the crook of Alex’s shoulder and groans desperately, “_Fuck_ Alex.” Alex drags his fingers through Michael’s curls soothing him while Michael takes deep breaths.

He finally pulls away from Alex’s shoulder after his breath has evened out again. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he confesses.

Alex plays with the ends of Michael’s curls and smiles broadly, “Don’t ever forget it.”

“Never,” Michael promises vehemently.

* * *

El Diablo killings go back to his usual M.O. after Alex’s article and everyone at the _Journal_ jokes that he must have been hurt by Alex’s words. “Maybe he thought you’d be grateful,” one jokes and Alex easily laughs with them.

Alex is busy putting together the profile of El Diablo’s latest victim when one of his coworkers leans over his cubicle, “There’s a really handsome cowboy at the front asking for you,” she tells him.

He whips his head up, “Curls? Black cowboy hat?”

“That’s the one,” she confirms, “Someone you know?”

“My boyfriend,” Alex answers getting up from his desk to meet Michael. Sure enough, he’s standing in the lobby swaying on the balls of his feet while he waits for Alex.

“Hey,” Alex calls out. Michael looks over and smiles, meeting Alex halfway and kissing him in full view of his coworkers. “What are you doing here?” he asks breathlessly when Michael pulls away.

“Wanted to treat you to lunch, darlin’,” Michael explains simply.

Alex narrows his eyes trying to figure out what Michael’s real motivation is. He breaks into a slow smile when he figures it out. There’s something wickedly satisfying about flaunting their relationship, none of them realizing El Diablo is standing right before them. The only thing that would be more brazen would be if they were at an APD station. “Okay,” Alex agrees, “Let’s go.”

Michael smiles and takes Alex’s hand into his, brings up their linked hands for a simple kiss before leading them away.

They fall into a comfortable pattern after that. Alex and Michael are more public with their relationship. Michael starts joining Alex when he volunteers at the VA hospital, they meet each other’s friends, they go out to lunch at least once a week. Every person Alex introduces Michael to makes a thrill run up his spine. Michael has all but moved into Alex’s apartment and he feels so desperately in love with Michael. They sit together at Alex’s table discussing who will be brought to justice next, researching their crimes and weighing them against the other. It’s the most Michael will let Alex participate and he aches to see Michael at work.

Fall is welcomed back to the city with the bite of frosty mornings and warm days. A year has passed since El Diablo first came into the city and everyone has comfortably accepted their new normal. Even APD relaxes their investigation into him. Alex is more convinced than ever that Michael is doing the city a service; he loves and cares in his twisted way and he’s taking care of the city in the only way he knows how.

* * *

Alex is at work when one of his coworkers forwards him an article written by someone called Grant Green discussing the El Diablo murders. He has become disturbed by the way the city has seemingly accepted a deranged killer into their city because he only targets criminals. “_Alex Manes is the worst offender in the city. He writes columns in the city newspaper practically publishing love letters to the murderer and normalizes his behavior_.”

Alex purses his lips as he continues reading. Green never mentions the city by name and it was published on a conspiracy theory website so it’s unlikely to be taken seriously by anyone, but it does disturb him that he’s so casually name-dropped.

Without thinking, Alex texts the article to Michael. _The nuts are onto me 😉_ Michael’s response is almost instant: _not for long_. It’s such an innocuous statement but it sends shivers down his spine.

For the rest of the day, Michael sends Alex all the info he can find on Green: he does live in Albuquerque, he’s estranged from his family, doesn’t have any social groups, easy to go missing because no one would notice.

Then he tacks on the list of his crimes. They’re mostly harmless, nowhere near the same level as other El Diablo victims:

  * he’s part of a disinformation campaign
  * runs a troll farm online
  * writes inflammatory articles on the same conspiracy theory site about Liberal politicians and believes they’re lizard people in disguise
  * he believes there’s a white genocide happening and the Mexicans are behind it

The last crime makes Alex’s breath hitch.

  * spread lies about my love

Alex doesn’t respond to any of Michael’s messages, neither encouraging him nor dissuading him. Michael has already made up his mind on how he’ll deal with Green, nothing Alex says will change it.

Days pass and Michael doesn’t bring it back up. He holds Alex tightly every night and lavishes his love on him. Days turn into weeks and it’s a half-remembered incident. They still sit at the table playing god under the guise of the devil. Nothing changes, nothing happens.

“I was thinking about how worried you were about me not giving you any gifts after we went to the Alien Throne,” Michael starts casually one morning over breakfast.

“Worried?” Alex repeats, raising an eyebrow.

Michael lifts one shoulder up and drops it, “Well, I thought, it’s been a while since I gave you anything so I want to surprise you tonight.”

“Oh?”

“Come out to Tijeras after work today, I’ll text you the address,” Michael smiles, taking one of Alex’s hands into his and stroking the knuckles.

“What’s in Tijeras?” Alex asks, not willing to give in to Michael so easily.

He huffs lightly, “I just told you; it’s a surprise.” Alex just continues to lift an eyebrow in expectation. Michael finally caves and shakes his head, “It’s a good place to keep prying eyes away.”

Alex smiles slowly, “Okay,” he agrees as if he’d give any other answer.

* * *

That night, after publishing an op-ed on El Diablo, Alex gets in his car and drives away from the _Journal_ toward the East Mountains following the directions Michael had texted him. When Alex arrives at the address, he finds a nondescript barn on the lot, the nearest house was at least a mile away, and Michael’s pickup parked out front.

Heart hammering, Alex gets out of his car and stops at the front of the barn door for a moment. He hears faint whimpering and Michael’s familiar murmuring. Alex knows, _knows_, what he’s going to find when he opens the door, but the scene still takes his breath away.

Grant Green is tied up in the middle of the barn, mouth gagged, while Micheal stands over him, knife in hand _dripping_ from the cuts he’s made in Green’s face, arms, chest. Both men turn toward Alex at the heavy door’s creak open. Michael’s eyes light up at his entrance while Green almost looks relieved to see him. “Poor fool,” he thinks as he steps through the threshold, shutting the door behind him, and strides confidently toward Michael.

Micheal’s smile grows more predatory the closer Alex approaches, teeth glinting in the moonlight. When Alex reaches him, he grabs him by the lapels of his jacket and pulls him into a deep, long kiss. Michael buries one hand in Alex’s hair, roughly massaging his scalp, while the other hand, the one holding the knife, clutches at his hip, the blade pressing into his leg.

Alex forgets himself for a moment, desperately clutching Michael tightly against him, sucking on his bottom lip before pulling at it with his teeth. When they finally pull away, they’re both panting slightly, Michael smiling softly and eyes sparkling in happiness. “I’m glad you could make it, darlin’,” he nods in the direction of Green and when Alex looks back at him, he looks even more frightened and something vicious in Alex thinks “Good.”

Alex pulls away from Michael’s embrace and steps aside to watch Michael work. Michael throws a sultry look back at Alex, who winks back, then turns his attention back to Green. “You must understand now, don’t you? Printing lies about Alex. This is your punishment.”

Between Green’s screams, Alex has to suck in deep breaths. Michael is methodical in his cuts, precise for the maximum amount of pain but to keep him conscious for as long as possible. He throws back his head as though in pleasure, periodically meeting Alex’s gaze, heat and anticipation heavy in his eyes. Alex is so unbelievably turned on, he wants Michael more than he ever has. He wishes Michael would hurry and finish, but he’s putting on this show for Alex so he’ll be patient for him.

Finally, Michael puts Green out of his misery. He slowly, slowly pushes the tip of the knife into his chest. Michael leaves it there, then strides over to Alex and pulls him into another kiss, both hands cradling his face, smearing Alex’s cheeks with blood. Michael pulls off, leaving Alex gasping and trying to follow Michael’s lips, but he pushes him away. “Soon,” he promises before picking up a saw and returning to Green’s prone body.

He meticulously begins cutting into Green’s chest, careful not to disturb any of the organs. Alex feels like he can’t breathe when Michael starts digging in the chest cavity with his bare hands. Michael approaches Alex again, tenderly cradling the heart in his hands. He offers it to Alex, “If I could rip out my own for you, I would.” Alex shudders and gently accepts it.

Alex looks down at the heart for a moment before meeting Michael’s lovesick expression. “Oh Michael,” he sighs, “You can take mine whenever you want.”

“That’s why I love you, Alex. You understand like no one ever has or will,” Michael confesses.

“I do,” Alex assures him, “I love you too. You could love anyone in the world, but you chose me.”

Michael smiles, one hand over the heart, the other stroking Alex’s cheek. “Just you,” he agrees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a pic of the [ Alien Throne](https://www.instagram.com/p/B4BIktvng5M/?igshid=28206l7iga38), it's a pretty neat rock formation!


End file.
